Lifestream
by AlphaOmegaPsi
Summary: "All I care about is finding out who I am...I could care less about your cause."


AN: What's this? A crossover? I never thought the day would come!

Just a silly little thing I came up with after playing FF7 with the names of the HiNaBN characters. Enjoy.

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><p><em>Screeeeeech!<em>

The train ground to a halt with an ear-jarringly loud screech, jolting the two half-asleep guards waiting on the platform. They had been sent there by Shinra after a tip-off informed them that the terrorist group AVALANCHE would be making a move in Sector 5. That was almost a week ago, but they still hadn't shown; it was as peaceful and boring as ever in the slums of Midgar, save for the odd scuffle or two from disgruntled passengers

"I'm half-tempted to blow the damn reactor up myself," Lamont yawned, stretching his arms above his head before slumping back down on the brick wall behind him. His partner, a mousy man named Jareld of maybe 25 or 26, glanced around nervously.

"You sh-shouldn't joke about something like that," Jareld said, eyes darting back and forth as if anyone on the nearly empty platform might be listening in. Lamont wasn't nearly as worried; it was 2:00 AM, well past the time when reasonable people were awake. Most of the people on the platform were swaying, zombie-like shells on their way home from a long day at work, ready to drop into bed just long enough to get up and do the same thing the next morning. They didn't care one bit about the conversation of two lounging guards.

Lamont eyed the passengers as they stumbled by, catching the eye of a cute little blonde who looked like she'd just come home from a night of turning tricks. He shot her a wink, but got only a scowl in return. He never did have much luck with women, even prostitutes.

"Well," Lamont sighed, pushing himself away from the wall just as the woman made her way off the platform, "that's the last train of the night. Let's get back to the hotel. Jareld cast one more nervous glance at the train before nodding and turning to follow Lamont.

Then everything went to hell.

Lamont heard the gunshots first, his fried brain not registering the sound until he felt the bullet pierce his right shoulder. Instinct took over as he threw himself around the corner for cover, gun drawn and pain forgotten. Heavy breathing was the only thing he could hear; a second later, he realized it was his own. The rest of the platform was silent as the grave.

The Italian man peered around the corner back onto the platform, but found it completely empty. Save for one lone figure laying face-down in a pool of his own steadily spreading blood. Jareld.

Lamont swallowed back the cry that was building in his throat and reached for the radio clipped to his belt. He licked his lips twice and tried to calm his shaking hands as he pressed down hard on the speaker button.

"This is g-guard A110 requesting backup," he said, his voice just as shaky as his hands. "Partner d-down, unknown attack in Sector 5, train station E."  
>"I'd put that down if I were you."<p>

The voice was so quiet that at first Lamont didn't think they were talking to him – which was ridiculous, because who else would they be talking to? It wasn't until he felt the sharp tip of a sword dig into his back, right above his heart, that he realized he was in trouble.

Lamont heard the clatter of the radio as it hit the ground, but barely registered anything else as he leapt to his feet and whirled to face his adversary, gun drawn and ready to shred through whoever had killed his partner. The adrenaline coursed through him, leaving no room for rational thought. All that mattered was action. All that mattered was to live. All that mattered was blood.

The sword slashed through him faster than he thought such a large instrument capable of, slicing open the front of his guard's uniform and opening a deep gash on his torso. For a few moments, Lamont stood suspended on his feet, as if time itself were standing still. In those few seconds, he finally saw the face of his enemy.

It was a man, or at least he thought it was a man, with black hair and green, almost rotting skin. His eyes were bright orange, and seemed to glow with their own internal light. _Mako,_Lamont thought vaguely. This man had been exposed to mako.

Then, like a switch had been thrown, Lamont felt himself fall to his knees. He stared up into the cold eyes of his enemy, as if pleading. For what, he didn't know. The last thing he saw was the man's back as he turned and walked away. Then, only darkness.


End file.
